


the fourth overture

by allyourdarlings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: CS AU, Captain Believer, Captain Cobra - Freeform, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Cursed! Emma, Cursed! Killian, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling, Lieutenant Killian Jones, Musician! Killian, OUAT - Freeform, Once Upon a Captain Swan Storybook, Princess Emma, daddy! killian, orphan killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyourdarlings/pseuds/allyourdarlings
Summary: Emma and Killian were just children learning to grow up when they found each other through music and fell in love.  Their love is put to the test when the Dark Curse sweeps Emma and her kingdom away and they have to begin again.  Lieutenant Duckling and Captain Swan, ft. Princess Emma and street musician Killian Jones, with Cursed!Emma and Cursed!Killian.  Part of the Once Upon a Captain Swan Storybook on tumblr.





	1. we were just children

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Once Upon a Captain Swan Storybook found here: http://csstorybook.tumblr.com/post/150353336741/once-upon-a-captain-swan-story-book-the-once-upon
> 
> Check out all the beautiful artwork, stories and more there! M & J did an amazing job putting it together!

Killian scrunched his face as Cook scrubbed at it with a rough cloth. He didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The crew had been talking about some _girl_ all morning. He didn’t see how it had anything to do with him and why they hadn’t disembarked from the ship after making port hours ago.

 

Cook spit on the cloth again and wiped at Killian’s neck. Killian turned away in mild distaste, a frown pulling on the edges of his mouth.

 

“No need to look so sull’n, boy. That be the best we can do with yer anyhow,” the one-eyed man mumbled before dropping his meaty hand.

 

Killian took that as permission to scamper away. He ran towards the mast and started climbing the rigging when he heard the sound of trumpets, quickly followed by the familiar barks of captains telling their men to get in order.

 

To Killian’s bemusement, the sailors in each ship along the berth got in line like they were members of some royal navy. He was frowning so much at the spectacle that he nearly missed the one that caught everyone else’s attention. It was the subtle shift of his own crew’s heads that alerted him to the true scene.

 

Running along the docks was a yellow haired girl in a red dress. The fabric had a certain sheen to it that indicated it was finer than any fabric Killian had ever been privileged to touch. Just from her clothing, it was clear to him she was high born.

 

But there was also the way she held her head up and the retinue that followed her and everyone clearing their way for her. And of course, all the men straightening like the Admiral himself had come to inspect their posture!

 

 _Why, the girl was probably only a year or two older than him!_ Killian thought with a shake of his head. Noble born or not, Killian really didn’t see what all the fuss was about. She didn’t even glance at any of the merchant ships she was passing. She was clearly more intrigued by the tall masts of the actual Royal Navy.

 

Killian was just about to climb higher on the rigging to see if there was anything more interesting when Murphy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back on to the deck. Though he hadn’t been very far up, Killian landed hard in front of Captain Flint.

 

The hooked faced man sneered down at him and pointed a heavily ringed finger in his direction. “Sing, boy.”

 

Killian was so startled that he didn’t sing any of the sea shanties he had been taught by various members of the crew. Instead, he sang a song his mother used to sing to him, nearly the only thing he remembered of the woman who died when he was barely a toddler.

 

_looking up from underneath_

_fractured moonlight on the sea_

_reflections still look the same to me_

_as before I went under*_

 

The girl had already passed the ship but she paused and tilted her head to the side. After a moment, she turned back and looked up, following the sound of his song. Her deep green eyes met his as he continued to sing.

 

_and the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_and all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_but the arms of the ocean delivered me_

 

Without breaking eye contact, she walked closer and closer to the ship until she was nearly at the end of the pier. Her people fluttered around her, not getting in her way but clearly concerned about the change in her trajectory.

 

Killian may have found her unremarkable from afar, aside from the fineness of her dress. But closer up, he thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. And with her eyes locked on him, for the first time in a very long time, Killian felt like he was worth something. So, he kept singing.

 


	2. learning to grow up

“I know you.”

Killian startled and pressed too hard with his bow, the string it touched protesting with a discordant squeak. He kept playing as though he hadn’t been interrupted. He always opened with the same song, the song his mother used to sing to him, the song he once sang to a beautiful girl who made him realize he could make it on his own, so long as he could make music.

Once he finished, he looked up to see who dared interrupt him. Bloody hell, he knew who that yellow haired girl was now - the Princess of Misthaven.

“I know this song too. Play it again,” she said. She probably didn’t mean to sound demanding but she did. She was a princess after all.

She placed a gold coin in his upturned cap on the ground and Killian scrambled to put the coin in his pocket. He knew better than to leave something like that out in the open for anyone to swipe.

Once the coin was secured, he put his violin and bow back in position and began playing again. As it was seven years ago, she kept her eyes on him. And he looked back too. He didn’t need to look at the frets or strings to play this song.

_and it’s breaking over me_   
_a thousand miles down to the sea bed_   
_found the place to rest my head_   
_never let me go_   
_never let me go_   
_never let me go_   
_never let me go_

“What else can you play?” she asked eagerly as soon as he finished.

“Anything,” he replied, holding his head up high just as he had seen her do once before.

“Anything?” she asked, eyes wide. But the next moment, she shook her head, causing her sunlight locks to fly. “You can’t play anything,” she dismissed.

“Sing me a song,” he challenged.

Emma squinted in thought before singing a folk song that hadn’t been popular in some time. But it didn’t matter if it was familiar to him or not. He could play it. He hummed it back under his breath and then positioned his fingers and bow.

She didn’t interrupt him this time and he played it without fault, even on a secondhand violin that he had tuned himself.

She approached him again with a coin held between two fingers. Killian held the bow delicately between his teeth and turned his palm upward so she could drop it in the makeshift cup he made with his hand. To his surprise, she instead pressed the coin into his palm. He felt a jolt where her fingers grazed his skin - Killian didn’t know what it felt like to be touched by lightning but he imagined he knew now.

He shook his head at the fanciful thought when she pulled her hand away.

“Do this one,” she said as though she hadn’t changed him.

She sang in a foreign language that he did not know, that was only taught to the high born. But he didn’t need to know the language to play it. He spoke best in the language of music anyway. It transcended all else for him.

From the look in Emma’s eyes, he knew he had played it flawlessly. A few other observers came and dropped some copper in his hat and he bowed to them clumsily.

“You are to be a royal musician of the court,” Emma declared once he straightened. “Not playing for coins in the street.”

Killian frowned as he tried to put his day’s earnings away while looking at her. He didn’t like the tone of her voice, telling him what to do and how things were. It reminded him too much of Flint and being indentured into servitude.

“I earn my coin. I don’t take charity,” he huffed at her.

“Of course, of course,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But you will have to learn where your place is.”

Killian felt his temper flare. “I’m an orphan living on the streets. Of course I know where my place is,” he scowled.

He knew her offer was nearly too good to be true, that he should grasp it and keep hold of it as long as he could, but he couldn’t accept that Princess Emma of Misthaven had taught him he was worth something only to set a ceiling to what he could accomplish. He slung the violin across his back. “Goodbye, Princess,” he said as he mockingly bowed at her.

“Wait! Where are you going?” she cried, clearing unprepared for him to reject her offer.

“I’m better off alone,” he threw over his shoulder.

“I will find you!” He thought he heard her say as he ran away. “I will always find you.”

But that was impossible. Killian shook his head. As he had said to her, he was an orphan from the streets - no one had ever looked for him, no one ever would.

Killian hiked his violin higher on his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.


	3. when we found each other through music

Killian stumbled despite her hands guiding him from behind. “Can’t I take the blindfold off yet?” he huffed, tempted to pull off her silk scarf himself. She had accosted him before he had even disembarked from the Arendelle merchant ship that brought him back from a longer than usual service with the Royal family in the northern kingdom. He had written her weeks ago about the two gracious princesses her own age who had given him leave to practice on their grand piano. He hadn’t heard back from Emma - perhaps bored with his endless descriptions of the piano’s craftsmanship - and had not expected her to be at the docks when they made port.

 

“Then I wouldn’t have an excuse to hold you,” she breathed into his ear as she tightened her arms around his waist.

 

“Well, if you say it like that, lass,” he replied, placing one of his hands over hers. Every time their skin touched he felt that familiar jolt pass through him, making him feel warm and alive.

 

“Just a few more steps,” she murmured as she maneuvered him. Finally, she paused, hugging him from behind for a moment, cheek resting between his shoulder blades, before reaching up and pulling the blindfold off with a flourish.

 

He was standing before the grandest piano he had ever seen - a majestic concert grand made of enchanted wood and clearly, of the finest craftsmanship. It even exceeded the grand in the Royal Hall at Arendelle.

 

“What do you think?” she asked, biting her lip and hopping back and forth on her slippered feet. “I had it commissioned for you.”

 

Killian was in a daze. "What is this for?” he breathed as he slowly approached the piano, trembling with awe, eager and excited to touch the instrument but just as afraid of ruining it with his undeserving hands.

 

“Let’s call it an engagement present,” she said so quietly he thought he might have misheard her.

 

“Wha...are you...?” he asked, swinging his head around to look at her.

 

“Marry me, Killian.”

 

Killian forgot all about the piano in his astonishment. He had never been sure what would result from his relationship with the Princess of Misthaven. They’d shared a few secret kisses and fallen asleep in each other’s arms from time to time. But she had come-of-age now and he had played during her debutante ball, where royal suitors had come from all over the kingdom and beyond to court her. He had been expecting their intimacy and time together to come to an end, that he would only see her from afar, when he was commissioned to play during special court events. “I, I uh...I’m just a commoner, a half-sailor, a street musician,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

 

But she reached out and grasped both of his hands. “You’re a great many things as you’ve just said yourself! And not just some street musician but the greatest musician in this kingdom,” she said earnestly. “Perhaps in any kingdom!”

 

She looked into his eyes and as it was that very first day, twelve years ago, he could not look away.

 

“I love you. It would be my honor,” she said with a curtsy that took her down to one knee, her hands still holding his, “if you would have me.”

 

She continued to stare at him, her eyes wet and wide, her lips trembling a bit, and he realized with awe that she was scared, scared that he would say no. Granted, she had spent years finding him at his next destination, following his song, standing in dirt roads and around wishing wells, waiting for him to come back from a sojourn at sea, and he had always turned down the offer of a royal position.

 

But it had nothing to do with her. He loved her too. But he had thought her admiration had been because of his music. That it wasn’t actually _HIM_ she loved. She was young, beautiful and heir to a kingdom. That she wanted him for him, out of all the partners she could have in the seven kingdoms, was beyond his comprehension.

 

He still didn’t have the right words to say to her so he did what he did best instead. He took her hand and guided her to the piano bench. She looked at him in confusion and some alarm but he smiled reassuringly at her and placed her hands on the keys. Note by note, he taught her how to play his mother’s song, their song, on the piano.

 

_and it’s breaking over me_

_a thousand miles down to the sea bed_

_found the place to rest my head_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

 

_and the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_and all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_but the arms of the ocean delivered me_

 

Even after they stopped playing, he could hear the song in his heart. He hoped it touched her as it did him, like an echo of their hearts in each other, deep in their souls, in a language that could transcend time and words.

 

“To a new beginning,” he smiled at her as she leaned into him, eyes on him.

 

“To a new beginning,” she echoed.

 

And for the first time since he first lost his hope, he allowed his heart to open up fully to his princess.

 

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go,_ his heart sang.

 

They ended up playing the song once more that night, achieved one last transcendence, made one last vow, shared one last kiss, before a curse swept Emma and her kingdom to another realm while Killian was away at sea.

 

_and it’s over_

_(never let me go,_

_never let me go)_

_and I’m going under_

_(never let me go,_

_never let me go)_

_but I’m never giving in_

_(never let me go,_

_never let me go)_

_but I’m never giving in_


	4. and fell in love (part a)

The bell chimed brokenly as Emma walked into the Fourth Overture. Emma had been skeptical about the shop, its storefront displayed a broken violin and other equally worn instruments and it boosted even less foot traffic than Mr. Gold's pawnshop. But it was the only music store in town and she wanted to encourage Henry’s sudden interest in joining an after school music program. According to Mary Margaret, Henry had never participated in a group activity with children his own age. Emma didn’t want Henry’s childhood to be an echo of hers - lonely without sound, without hope, without love.

 

Emma was determined to help Henry regain his childhood. She wanted him to have friends and interests and not be so wrapped up in curses and fantasies. Though she had never been inclined to music herself, she felt that this was exactly what Henry needed.

 

However, the inside of the shop was even less inspiring than the outside. There was dust everywhere, layers of it on the instruments but also, in the air, seemingly floating about aimlessly in some half-life.

 

"It's like fucking Phantom of the Opera," Emma muttered under her breath.

 

"Can I help you?"

 

Emma spun around, hand on her holster. "Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a cop?" she scowled before she even got a proper look at the offender.

 

"You must be the new deputy," the man replied mildly as he took a step into a stray ray of weak light. "I'm the owner of this...place," he said as though he didn't know how else to describe his poor excuse for a shop.

 

Emma had instinctively taken a half step back and tightened her hold on her gun. She had expected someone small and sinister like Gold but the speaker looked just about as different from the other shop owner as possible.

 

He was tall, enough that she had to tilt her head back, even from her position several feet away. And handsome, even strikingly so, with a strong jaw and deep blue eyes. His eyes even reminded her of Henry's. They were nearly the same shade.

 

But what distinguished him from Gold and her son and damn near anyone else she had met in this weird little town was the deep air of melancholy surrounding him.

 

Emma found it hard to believe that anyone in Storybrooke was cursed. Magic aside, the denizens of Storybrooke didn't seem to be any different than anyone else in small town America. Their lives were small, petty and somewhat vacant. Sure, to some, such a life would be a curse but that hardly meant some malevolent element was the cause.

 

But this man, though real and solid before her and present like any other citizen of Storybrooke, looked haunted, weighed down in shadows, a phantom in his own life. Cursed.

 

She shook her head at such fanciful thoughts. She had been reading too much into Henry's fairytales. She lived in reality. And she was here to help Henry live in this reality.

 

"Yeah, that's me. Emma Swan. And you are?" she replied, holding her head up high.

 

The man held his hand out and she reached out to shake it. "James Hook," he said as their hands touched.

 

Emma felt a jolt unlike anything she ever felt before. It stunned her - it was both foreign and familiar, and she pulled back abruptly, still feeling her skin tingle where they touched.

 

"It must be the stupid name," she muttered to herself.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"Yeah, c'mon man, James Hook? Really? Isn't that too obvious?" She crossed her arms defensively.

 

James cocked his head to the side. "I don't know what you mean."

 

"James Hook? As in Captain Hook from J.M. Barrie's _Peter Pan_?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

 

He raised one back at her. "Oh, I didn't know that was his first name. It's not like I named me," he said with a shrug.

 

Emma blushed, a bit embarrassed, in the face of his nonchalance. Of course, James was a perfectly normal name and it wasn't like he got to decide what his first and surnames would be. And even if he did, why would he care about fairy tale parallels anyway?

 

"Look, I think I'm at the wrong place," she said, as she dropped her arms.

 

"So you didn't mean to come into a music store?" he asked slowly.

 

Emma scrunched her face at him. "Well, I..." She didn't know what to say about his shop without insulting him. "I'm just not sure this is the right kind of music store," she finally managed to offer.

 

"It's the only one in town."

 

Emma sighed. She knew that but she supposed she could go to Boston on her day off. It would mean Henry wouldn't have an instrument for a few days but she could probably get him something that wasn't...broken.

 

While Emma was thinking, it seemed James had determined the direction of her thoughts. He opened the door for her and gestured at the exit. In that movement, she saw that his left arm was abruptly truncated. And she somehow knew, without having to ask him, that he was a musician who lived in the shadows of dusty instruments he could no longer play.

 

And she couldn't walk out.

 

"What about the violin in the window? How much will you sell it for?"

 


	5. and fell in love (part b)

When Emma arrived at Storybrooke Elementary, she was alarmed to find Henry considering a bunch of large brass instruments - trumpets and tubas and other things she couldn't name. She groaned internally, chastising herself for not consulting Henry (though she had wanted it to be a surprise) and not thinking more like a ten year old boy.

 

She hadn't been thinking of much at all while James Hook had been restringing the violin with his one hand and teeth, to be honest.

 

She had tried to hide the violin behind her back when Henry spotted her. But she was relieved and quite pleased with herself when Henry cried out enthusiastically, "A violin! How did you know I wanted to play this?"

 

"Just a hunch, kid."

 

"Cool! The school doesn't have a REAL one," Henry said in the most judgmental tone she had ever heard him use. She had to admit, when he showed her the school's offering, it even looked like a toy fiddle to her.

 

It had only been about a week but Henry was now dragging the violin around with him everywhere he went.   He was naturally talented at it. Okay, he didn't know how to read music yet and all he really did was draw his bow across the strings but with nothing but instinct, it sounded like music to Emma's ears. They were now having an early dinner at Granny's where the other patrons were politely ignoring Henry's unguided playing.

 

There was some muted clapping when Henry finally put down his bow and it took a moment for Emma to realize it was James, clapping using his right hand and left forearm.

 

He looked even more handsome outside his dusty shop and viewed in proper lighting.

 

"Quite a natural talent, lad," he was saying.

 

"Thanks," Henry beamed. "But I don't really know what I'm doing."

 

"I'm certain you will be a quick study. Who is your instructor?"

 

"Mr. Coleman."

 

"The parcel delivery driver?" James asked skeptically.

 

"Yeah, that's him. I don't think he really knows that much about music. He says a job is a job. But he lets us jam," Henry rambled along.

 

"Jam?"

 

Emma tried hard not to laugh. James looked horrified at the idea of Henry just sitting around "jamming."

 

"The kids are having fun. That's the important part, right?"

 

"Right, right, of course," he said after a moment though his tone clearly indicated his doubt. "Well, if you would like any lessons, lad...well, your mother knows where my shop is."

 

"Really?" Henry held up his violin in request.

 

"Hey, kid, Mr. Hook" (as if that didn't sound really weird) "is here to have dinner, not work."

 

But Mr. Hook was already sliding into the seat next to Henry, not even acknowledging her attempt to give him an exit. He launched into an explanation of strings and frets and things that were beyond Emma's limited musical knowledge. She just sat back and watched. With their dark heads bent towards each other, Emma couldn't help but think what a tableau they made, like they were father and son.

 


	6. and fell in love (part c)

Ruby cornered her while she was exiting the bathroom. "I want to hear all about it."

 

"Hear all about what?" Emma asked, bewildered by the predatory look on the waitress' face.

 

"You and Hook, of course!"

 

Emma breathed in sharply, trying to calm the swooping sensation in her stomach at the mere mention of her and James. As though they were together. "There is nothing going on between me and Hook," she managed.

 

"What do you mean there's nothing? The man was a recluse for ten years until a couple of weeks ago! No one EVER saw him after the accident."

 

"What happened?"

 

"What do you mean what happened? He's here at the diner eating dinner with you nearly every night!"

 

"It's every other night," she corrected. "And it's the only payment he'll accept for giving Henry violin lessons. Now tell me about the accident. About his hand, right?"

 

Ruby sighed, seemingly accepting there was no juicy gossip about her and James. "He was a musical prodigy, you know. He was good at everything, but that concert grand piano he has in the back of his shop?"

 

Emma nodded. She remembered it. It dominated the room, it was so huge. It was the saddest thing in that shop until James stepped into the light.

 

"That was his forte. He was really going to be something, make it big in Boston. Had a scholarship and everything. He was supposed to leave the next week when someone T-boned his car, caused him to skid off the road and over an embankment. He lost his hand, his music, everything. His girlfriend even left him. And they never caught the guy."

 

Ruby shook her head, her eyes a bit wet from the memory.

 

"What about his family?"

 

"Never had one. He was an orphan," she sighed, throwing a rare grateful look at her grandmother at the counter. "Hey, Emma," Ruby said as she turned back. "He’s a good guy but a really sad story, so just be gentle. You might not think there's something but he might."

 

Emma walked back towards the diner feeling weighed down. Not because of Ruby's warning but what she now knew of James. Perhaps what she had always known about James. He was heavy with loss and sorrow. Like her. Abandoned and cursed. Like her.

 

Emma didn't remember anything about her past. She didn't remember her parents, she didn't know who the father of her son was. And she didn't want to know. When she was found, wandering about at eighteen by herself in Maine, pregnant, they suggested she try therapy to unearth her memories. But Emma was scared. Maybe her mind had suppressed those memories for a reason. Maybe her loss was too deep.

 

Maybe that's why she recognized the haunted lost look in James' eyes the moment they met. They were kindred spirits.

 

But when Emma turned the corner, she could see James smiling softly as he watched Henry play "Twinkle, twinkle little star". Emma felt her heart swell. Even after everything that had happened to him, he could still enjoy music. He was not entirely broken. Maybe she wasn't either.

 

Emma was so busy watching the two that she ran straight into Graham.

 

"Whoa there!" he said, holding her by her upper arms.

 

"Oh, sorry, Graham. I didn't see you there," Emma said distractedly as she tried to maneuver around her boss.

 

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you. Literally."

 

"Oh no. You're not going to ask me to work another night shift, are you?" Emma whined. She didn't want to miss a free night with Henry and James.

 

"Actually, I was thinking we could both be on call tomorrow. It's not like there's much happening in Storybrooke other than Henry running away."

 

Emma frowned at Graham's flat joke. "Okay, whatever."

 

"Great! Then I'll pick you up for dinner tomorrow night," he said loudly, catching even James and Henry's attention from across the diner.

 

Before Emma could even respond, Graham was out the door.


	7. and fell in love (part d)

James had been acting odd. While his behavior around Henry remained unchanged, he had become more tense around her. At first, she couldn't even pinpoint exactly what made her feel that way. But then she realized James didn't try to draw her into conversations anymore and only offered one worded response to her questions. He didn't look her in the eye and he would often clench his jaw in her presence. Once she started cataloging the changes in his behavior, she could not stop. She even caught him turning around twice when he saw her without Henry.

 

It wasn't as though they were friends or anything. Why should it matter to her that he disliked her? She didn't care.

 

But of course she cared. She had never been drawn to someone as much as she was drawn to James. She had never met anyone she thought could understand her as much as he did. And she thought she knew why he was pulling away, because she was scared too.

 

"So why the Fourth Overture? Isn't that a bit much?"

 

"Pardon?" James jerked his head up at her question. He had been composing something on a napkin for Henry to try when Henry saw one of his after school friends and asked to say hi. Emma was pleased for Henry - he finally had friends his own age - but she also saw this as an opportunity to speak to James. When Henry had left the booth, James had scrunched down further in his corner and continued scratching at the napkin.

 

Emma got up and slid into James' side of the booth. His blue eyes widened in alarm.

 

"Four overtures just seems like a lot."

 

The alarm in James' eyes receded and his entire face brightened with interest as her comment registered with him. "You know something about music?"

 

Emma wanted to say yes but she couldn't lie to him. "No, no, not really, just something I read on Wikipedia about overtures being like beginnings?" she responded, flustered by her need to impress him but her inability to.

 

But James smiled softly at her. "It's wonderful that you've taken such an interest in your son's hobby."

 

Emma couldn't help but stare at him. There was something about James' smile that touched the edge of her consciousness. She wanted to reach out and trace the corners of his mouth. She had already starting leaning towards him when she heard her name being abruptly called.

 

She moaned in irritation. "What now, Graham?" she bit out as she turned to glare at the Sheriff over her shoulder. "Are you going to con your way into another dinner?"

 

Graham actually stepped back. "It was just a friendly dinner. I thought we could both use a break?" He put his hands up and tried a conciliatory smile.

 

Emma wasn't buying it. "You're right, I could. From the people I work with. I told you from the beginning I wasn't interested. How about respecting my wishes?"

 

"People change their minds."

 

Emma felt her temper flare. She balled her fists up to prevent herself from getting up and throwing a punch. Graham was still her boss after all. "Good to know you think I'm that inconstant."

 

"Look, Emma-"

 

"I think the lady has made her point, eh, mate?"

 

Emma swung her head back to James, surprised he would say anything. But it seemed to work because Graham mumbled a half apology and retreated to one of the bar stools.

 

Emma opened her mouth to say something but James beat her to it.

 

"Apologies, I know you are more than capable of handling yourself but it seemed our Sheriff wasn't actually listening to you."

 

Emma blinked in surprise. James practically stated her tag line. She was a strong independent woman, she had always done things alone, she didn't need back up, but she had to admit it was kind of nice to have it, so she said the only thing she could. "Thank you."

 

"You're more than welcome, lass." James scratched behind his ear. “I had thought the two of you were..." He gestured in the air between her and the Sheriff at the counter.

 

"What? No, no, definitely no," she shook her head emphatically. "Did you think..." Did he really think that she and Graham were a couple? Was that why he had been pulling away?

 

She leaned forward again to ask when Henry plopped down in her former seat across the booth. "Hey, what do you have for me?" he asked James, pulling the napkin over towards him.

 

"Just something I've been, uh, working on from time to time. To be honest, the music is always in my head."

 

"Cool! Like your own personal soundtrack?"

 

"Um, something like that," he shrugged but Emma could see the blush high on his cheeks and she could hear the tremble in his voice. This music was personal and meant a lot to him. And he was sharing it with Henry.

 

But Henry seemed oblivious to James' reaction and just positioned the violin on his shoulder and started playing.

 

Emma enjoyed music, she did, but she’d never had a particular interest in it. It was just something to distract her from time to time when she was on a long drive or on a stakeout. But as soon as Henry started to play, she felt something unlock within her, like a door inside her had opened to allow the sound to touch to her soul. She unconsciously grabbed James' hand to steady herself but that seemed to amplify the feeling even more. It was like transcendence, like everything that she had denied for so long, kept pushed away, was breaking out and she was achieving a new level of consciousness. She turned to James and saw him intently studying her and she knew that she knew this song and that she somehow knew him.


	8. and fell in love (part e)

"I have new pages in my book!" Henry cried as he came barreling into the sheriff's office.

 

Emma looked behind her shoulder to see if Graham's office door was closed. It was possible that Graham already knew about Henry's obsession with the book but she didn't want him to know that she was, well, not exactly encouraging Henry in his theories, but trying to get to the bottom of the mystery at least.

 

"Shhhh, kid, Operation Cobra is a secret, remember?"

 

"Right," Henry whispered back but she could tell he was practically bursting with excitement.

 

At that moment, Graham exited his office. "Hi, Graham!" Henry said extra loudly.

 

"Eh, hullo, Henry." He turned towards Emma but didn't quite meet her eyes. "Um, patrol time."

 

"Yep, bye Graham," she replied shortly.

 

"Poor Graham," Henry remarked once the station doors had swung shut.

 

"What?"

 

"The Evil Queen has his heart so I think she's been using him to drive a wedge between you and your prince charming," Henry said as he swung his storybook on to her desk. "He also likes you," he added almost as an afterthought.

 

Emma felt her heart beat faster. "Wait, I have a prince charming? You've never said anything before."

 

"Because I didn't know before. Didn't you just hear me? There are new pages in my book!" Henry said as he flipped open the cover and started turning the pages.

 

Emma unconsciously held her breath in anticipation. How could she really believe in the curse? In evil queens and fairytales? In a prince charming?None of it made any sense. But what about her feelings for James and her son with no known father but eyes like the sea and a natural talent for music?

 

"Here. This first page showed up the day after I played the song James composed. At first I thought maybe I had missed it before but then, this picture showed up after James gave me more lines." Henry pointed at an illustration of a young boy playing the violin near some docks. He looked strikingly like Henry with a dark mop of hair and blue eyes. Standing in front of him was a girl with yellow hair and a red dress. "There was no way I could've missed this before. This means the more James Hook remembers of this song, the more will be revealed."

 

Henry smiled triumphantly at Emma. "His name is Killian Jones, by the way."

 

Emma felt a jolt at hearing that name, as though she knew it even though she hadn't heard it before. "What's his story?"

 

"It doesn't say much about him so far. Just that he was an orphan, he had been sold into indentured servitude as a child, and he used to sing for the captain of the Walrus. And he was singing once and caught the attention of Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven." Henry looked up at her. "That's you, remember?"

 

"What about this picture? With the violin?" Her voice trembled slightly as she asked. "What does it say about that?"

 

"That page hasn't shown up yet. But don't worry, I've got this."

 

"You do?" Emma watched as her son took a folded envelope out of his pocket and laid it flat on the desk. It was more lines of music, in James' writing.

 

"I stopped by the Fourth Overture and asked Mr. Hook to write more of that song. He remembered some of the words too this time," Henry explained before he turned to carefully take his violin and bow from his case.

 

_Looking up from underneath_

_Fractured moonlight on the sea_

_Reflections still look the same to me_

 

Emma listened to Henry play and the feeling of being overwhelmed struck her again. She wanted, needed, to hold James or Killian's or whoever he was, hand again. Instead, she turned the page and gasped when she saw, instead of the blank page that had been there before, a story that described how the princess followed Killian's song around in whatever medium it was presented.

 

After Henry had left for dinner with Regina, Emma continued to sit and stare at the storybook. Henry had mentioned other instances of magic but Emma never saw them before. He had explained because she never believed before.  

 

Did she really believe now or just want to? Want to fill in the gaps and have James be the one to fill in those lost moments of her youth? Emma shook her head. It was impossible. Because if what Henry had been saying about the curse was true, that time had stood still for ten years, that David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard were really her parents though they were only in their forties, then Killian would have been seventeen still. James Hook was clearly a man. She didn't have the heart to remind Henry of this age discrepancy, she could hardly admit it to herself that it just didn't work. Emma sighed, grabbed her keys and took a lonely drive through Storybrooke.


	9. and fell in love (part f)

"Look, Mom, he spent TEN years looking for you!" Henry nodded to her significantly and turned the book towards her.

 

"Uh, oh." Emma felt her stomach clench. She didn't see anything but a blank page. Because she didn't believe. No, she corrected herself harshly. It was because none of this was real. "Henry..." she began.

 

"He was in a different kingdom, beyond the curse, when it swept the land. That's how he lost his hand too! He turned to piracy as a means to find you. Which is a dangerous occupation, you know!" Henry continued on, excited. "Whoa, he IS Captain Hook then!"

 

Henry was interrupted when the door at Granny's swung open and the man himself walked in.

 

"Apologies for my tardiness," James said as he hurriedly approached their booth at Granny's. He had cancelled all of last week much to her disappointment and Henry's. But Henry had taken it in stride and said he would practice even more and impress James with how much he had improved. Emma had just smiled tightly and hoped that the music shop owner hadn't tired of them.

 

But he was here this week, as promised, though she noticed he looked pale and had dark circles under his eyes. He even rubbed his hand across his forehead as he sat down.

 

"Everything okay?" Emma frowned with concern.

 

"Just fine, love," he replied too quickly with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "A bit of a head cold perhaps," he added at her pointed look.

 

"Did you write any more of your song?" Henry asked.

 

"Henry!" Emma gently chastised.

 

But James just smiled apologetically. "Ah, sorry about that lad. I seem to have writer's block as of late."

 

Emma watched with greater concern as he rubbed his head again. She was loath to part with James but it looked like he should be resting. She hesitantly suggested it but he waved his hand at her. "No, no, I just need to hear Henry play. I think it would do me a world of good."

 

Henry beamed, happy to help out.

 

* * *

 

 

James had fallen asleep right there at the table. She wanted to take him to the hospital but he waved her off and she had a night shift to catch anyway. At that moment, she regretted being at odds with Graham. She was sitting here in the stupid station when she could be...well, what? Watch her son's tutor sleep off a head cold? Still, maybe she could check in at the end of her shift.

 

Before she could stop herself, she entered James Hook's name in the town's database. It appeared the Mayor kept quite the record of everyone in town. It was a bit too Big Brother for her but now she found it useful.

 

Name, James Hook. Address, 444 Main Street. So he lived above the Fourth Overture. Great, she could see him soon after she got off. She was about to turn back to her paperwork when her eye caught his age. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. How old Killian Jones would've been if he had lived outside the curse, like her. Twenty-seven. Just like Henry had said earlier that day. Ten years. Killian Jones looked for his princess for ten years, losing his hand in the process, losing his music.

 

The thoughts were running circles in in her head when the phone rang, startling her.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Uh, Deputy, this is Mr. Clarke...uh, you know from the, the pharmacy."

 

"Yes?"

 

"You know this is like a 24 hour..." A loud sneeze interrupted him. "A 24 hour kind of place..."

 

"Okay..."

 

"I was awake. I mean, I AM awake..." Another sneeze.

 

"Mr. Clarke, do you have an emergency?" She asked, exasperated at the pace of this man.

 

"Well, no."

 

"Okay," Emma rolled her eyes and was about to hang up when she caught Mr. Clarke's "but..."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"The Fourth Over-"

 

Emma didn't wait to listen. She dropped the phone, grabbed her gun, and just ran. She was so frantic that she didn't even get into her bug or call backup. She just ran until she was outside the shop with all its windows now smashed in and glass everywhere.

 

She pushed through the door, her eyes taking in the scene before her. There was dust everywhere, heavier than before, because all of the dust on the instruments had been disturbed, all sent into the air, after whoever it was had smashed every single instrument in the store to wooden splinters. Emma swallowed heavily, feeling the loss of the sound they had contained, the memories made and to be made on them, but she quickly moved through the store, looking for James. He had to be alright. That was the most important part.

 

She found him near the back, sitting on the piano bench, in front of the only intact instrument in the room, the concert grand. He was slumped forward and she ran up to him in a panic. "Killi- James!" she cried, sliding on the bench next to him. She turned his face towards her. He had a cut under his left eye but seemed otherwise okay.

 

She asked anyway, wanting the reassurance. "Hey, hey, you're okay, right?"

 

James' sad eyes roved around the room, looking at all his broken instruments. His lip trembled for a moment, the only hint of what was about to follow, before he fell forward and started to sob at all he had lost. Emma pulled him towards her, placing his head to her chest, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I'm going to find whoever did this and I'm going to make them pay," she whispered fiercely into his ear as she used one hand to stroke his hair. "I'm going to punch them in the face. They are not getting away with this. I won't let them. I won't let anyone hurt you."

 

But James was beyond that. He had already been hurt and he kept crying and clinging to her. Emma didn't know how long they stayed there together but she refused to let him go.

 

After awhile, James finally fell silent though she could still feel his tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sniffed as he pulled away. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "It's just, just stuff. It's not like I can even play any of it anymore."

 

Emma shook her head. "No, it's not just stuff. These instruments meant a lot to you. They've been a part of you." She cupped the back of his head. "Did you see who did this?"

 

"No, he, um I think it was a he, was wearing a mask. I was asleep upstairs when it started. I don't know why it took me so long to even hear it. I felt like I was drugged."

 

Emma took in a sharp breath. It was possible.

 

"But it's...it was probably one of Gold's hired hands. I owe him rent. Gold, that is." James sniffed hard again. "A lot of rent."

 

"Why didn't you say anything?" She knew Gold ran this town and everyone was scared of him but she wasn't. She would've done everything in her power to protect this man.

 

"I didn't want to bother...it's my problem. And I didn't think..." He gestured brokenly at the store. "I thought his goon would take me out with the crowbar too," he added.

 

"Crowbar?" Emma fumed. How dare this person take on a drugged one-handed man with a crowbar? That coward was going to have to deal with her really soon.

 

"Aye," he nodded, "when I stood in front of the piano. He took a swipe," he gestured at his eye. "I just only managed to save it." James' fingers hovered above the piano, trembling a bit.

 

"Height and build? Eye color? Anything?" She hated to be questioning James now but she knew the likelihood of him remembering anything with clarity later would be greatly diminished.

 

"I don't know. My height and build really. Or actually more like the Sheriff's."

 

The Sheriff. What had Henry said? Regina was controlling Graham, trying to drive a wedge between her and James. But why? Why would Regina care about her relationship with James? It was David and Mary Margaret who could break the curse, not...

 

Unless any True Love's Kiss could break the curse. Not that True Love could possibly be between just anyone but as Emma looked over at James, hunched over and staring at his piano, she knew he wasn't just anyone to her. She blurted out, "Play your song for me."

 

He looked up at her, startled. "I can't," he said after a moment, looking forlornly back down at the piano.

 

"Let me help." And she didn't know how, she never played piano before, but when she placed her left hand on the keys and wrapped her right around James', Killian's, her love's truncated wrist, she knew she could play the song.

 

Hook looked at her in surprise as she played the first few notes, and it took him a moment, but he too put his hand on the piano and played the right hand keys.

 

He never did finish composing that song on napkins and the back of envelopes but they ended up playing the song from start to finish, as though they've always known it, as though they knew it their entire lives.

 

_and the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_and all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_ut the arms of the ocean delivered me_

 

_and it’s breaking over me_

_a thousand miles down to the sea bed_

_found the place to rest my head_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

_never let me go_

 

As they finished playing, Emma looked over at James. She couldn't stop staring at his deep blue eyes. It seemed possible now - that even a Dark Curse that separated them across realms, that erased their memories of everything that they knew before, could not take away the song in their heart. "Oh hell, I believe," she breathed before leaning over to press a kiss on the tear falling from his eye.

 

It was like lightning striking.

 

Warmth spread from where her lips touched his cheek and it was like an ocean of memories and feelings crashing over her. Killian, his blue eye staring into hers, his hands over hers on their piano, their one night together.

 

"You broke the curse," Killian whispered in awe. "You-"

 

But Emma didn't let him finish, she had more pressing matters at hand to attend to first, such as pressing her mouth to his. He leaned back as she surged forward, she tried to crawl into his lap, into him, and they slipped off the bench and crashed to the ground. Still, she didn't stop kissing him, just pulled his head closer, scratched at the back of his scalp, drowned deeper and deeper into him, until she finally had to take a breath. Even then she continued to pepper his face with kisses as he laughed happily under her.

 

Emma had never been quite certain of Killian's feelings. She had been the one who chased him whenever he ran, patronized him when he was just scraping by, proposed to him when it broke all rules. She knew he was too good of a man to take advantage of her but had he accepted her affections out of gratitude or obligation? An eighteen year old princess hadn't cared. She knew she loved him enough. But she had also been naive enough to believe one day he would just love her too, if not as much, then at least with some genuineness, apart from what she gave him.

 

But that bit of doubt grew and manifested in her cursed state into feelings of abandonment and deep insecurity. Combined with an unknown father to the child she bore, she developed sky high walls to protect herself and her heart.

 

But now, she knew. He had crossed realms to find her, given up everything he had, even lost his hand in the process. She touched his left wrist where his arm ended abruptly. "I love you."

 

"I'm not your musician anymore," he said somberly in reply.

 

"Nonsense. You'll always be my musician. You can still sing, you can still compose, you can still play if you let me be your backup."

 

Killian smiled at that. But she also wanted him to be sure, to know her heart.

 

"But I don't care if you don't do any of that. Because I love you, no matter what. I love you for you, not your music. Your music is just a reflection of who you are inside."

 

"I love you, too." It wasn't just a declaration of love. He already demonstrated how much he loved her anyway. And really, only True Love's Kiss could break a curse like that, a curse that was already breaking down before in the face of their love as far as Emma was concerned. It was a declaration of acceptance, that he was worthy of her love and that he accepted that he was worthy not because he was high born or musically talented, but because of who he was.

 

"You found me this time," she smiled, sitting up but holding on to his hand and wrist.

 

"Bloody good that did. I was cursed the moment I crossed that town line."

 

"But we couldn't forget completely."

 

"Aye, we couldn't."

 

As they struggled to pull him up, footsteps could be heard running in their direction. "Dad! Dad!" It was their only warning before Henry barreled into Killian's arms and knocked them both over.

 

"How did you know it was me?" Killian asked as he held his son to him.

 

Henry pushed himself up on Killian's chest and rolled his eyes. Emma couldn't help but smirk at the look Killian gave her, a look that said, he got his attitude from you. "Of course I knew it was you, Dad. I mean, you've heard me on the violin, right?"

 

Emma laughed. "You do have your father's talent." She kissed them both on their foreheads and winked, "And good looks."

 

Killian couldn't accept all the credit though. "You have your mother's stubbornness. And the way you hold your head up," Killian thumbed Henry's chin. "That's definitely your mother's bearing."

 

Killian hooked his left arm around Henry as he sat up and Emma moved to her True Love's right side, wrapping her own arm around Henry.

 

"So our family is finally all together now? And we'll never be alone again?" Henry asked, looking at both of them.

 

"Never," Emma affirmed. "We will never let each out go."

 

_Looking up from underneath_

_Fractured moonlight on the sea_

_Reflections still look the same to me_

_As before I went under_

_And it's peaceful in the deep_

_Cathedral where you cannot breathe_

_No need to pray, no need to speak_

_Now I am under all_

_And it's breaking over me_

_A thousand miles down to the sea bed_

_Found the place to rest my head_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_And all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

_Though the pressure's hard to take_

_It's the only way I can escape_

_It seems a heavy choice to make_

_And now I am under all_

_And it's breaking over me_

_A thousand miles down to the sea bed_

_Found the place to rest my head_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

_And all this devotion was rushing out of me_

_And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

_And it's over_

_And I'm going under_

_But I'm not giving up_

_I'm just giving in_

_I'm slipping underneath_

_So cold and so sweet_

_And the arms of the ocean so sweet and so cold_

_And all this devotion I never knew at all_

_And the crashes are heaven for a sinner released_

_And the arms of the ocean delivered me_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Deliver me_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Deliver me_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Deliver me_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_Never let me go_

_And it's over_

_(Never let me go, Never let me go)_

_And I'm going under_

_(Never let me go, Never let me go)_

_But I'm not giving up_

_(Never let me go, Never let me go)_

_I'm just giving in_

_(Never let me go, Never let me go)_

_i’m slipping underneath_

_(never let me go, never let me go)_

_so cold and so sweet_

_(never let me go, never let me go)_

**Author's Note:**

> *song is Never Let Me Go by Florence and the Machine


End file.
